


Somewhere Life Is Good And Things Go As They Should (It's Hard To Find But That's Alright)

by Linzoid



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: AU Artist Mick Rory, Gen, Leonard Snart is a little shit, M/M, everything else is normal, most of the shipping is implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 07:43:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10680810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linzoid/pseuds/Linzoid
Summary: AU where Mick is a popular artist and Len is still Len and tries to steal one of Mick’s paintings.





	Somewhere Life Is Good And Things Go As They Should (It's Hard To Find But That's Alright)

**Author's Note:**

> So the story behind this fic is pretty much that about 6 months ago I got the idea for artist!Mick and was so into it that I wrote about 500 words… of a completely different story which i have since deleted because it was not at all good. Then a few weeks later the idea started bugging me again so I ended up writing about 45% of this story before once again abandoning it because i ran out of ideas. This story would have been lost to my WIP folder in fact if not for a few weeks ago nirejseki wrote a completely different artist!Mick fic (go read it it’s better than mine) and kinda re inspired me to finish this. It ended up in a completely different place then I thought it would. so there. Long story for a short fic. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

There’s allot of weird shit that Mick expects on a day to day basis. Drinking paint water and washing his brushes in his coffee? He barely notices anymore. Superheroes? Mick can so handle that. Said superheroes having it out with their nemesis (nemeseses?) in his neighborhood? That’s just great inspiration.

What Mick didn’t expect was to be stepped on while he was sleeping. Well Mick supposes that while he was sleeping would be the only good time to step on him because he’s usually too tall for it otherwise.

Seriously he was just minding his own business sleeping on his own damn floor because he had lost his bed again and this asshole just steps on him. What the fuck.

“What the fuck!” Mick says and comes up swinging.

The guy yells “what the fuck!” and falls over.

“That’s what I said.” says Mick. “why the fuck d’you step on me?”  
“That’s your question?” the guy says, incredulous, “not who are you? Why are you in my apartment?”

Mick rolls his eyes, not that the guy can see it in the dark. “You’re obviously here to steal one of the paintings but that would have worked way better if you hadn't fucking stepped on me!”

The guy makes a strangled noise and yells back “I didn’t do it on purpose! Nobody was supposed to be here. The artist is some recluse living in Tibet or something, this place should be empty.”

Mick sighs. He knew that story was going to get him into trouble. “Sorry to disappoint and ruin what i’m sure would have been a great robbery but I don’t actually live in Tibet. That’s just what my agent says so I don’t have to meet my patrons. You threaten to burn a guy alive on a pile of his own money one time and suddenly you’re not fit for high society. Sorry?”

Mick isn’t really sure why he’s apologizing to his burglar. Probably because this is the most meaningful conversation he’s had this month. And shit isn’t that depressing.

“Damn” the guy says “you’re heatwave? That is unexpected. Sorry about the whole uh, stealing thing.”

Mick waves that off. “Honestly i’m more annoyed about the being stepped on.”

“About that, why are you sleeping on the floor in front of a painting anyway?” the guy asks and he actually sounds curious so Mick tells him the truth.

“I uh, lost my bed. I’m pretty sure most of it ended up in that sculpture over there” Mick gestures pointlessly into the pitch dark. “But dunno about the rest of it...” He trails off vaguely.

He can see the outline of his intruder nodding. “Makes sense I suppose.”

“It’s an artist thing” Mick offers, apologetic.

“Yeah. I guess I should be leaving then.” He sounds kinda dejected and Mick feels bad for him.

“Want a drink first?” it’s worth a shot, honestly this is the most interesting thing to happen to Mick in ages.

The guy hesitates and gives Mick what is probably a weird look but says “yeah sure why not.”

Mick makes his way to the little kitchen area of the apartment by feel and manages to finally find the light switch. He turns to ask his guest what he’d like to drink and sees his face for the first time.

He’s tall almost as tall as Mick. he looks to be around the same age too, with hair shaved short and intense eyes. Eyes that are somehow familiar. Mick squints. Holy shit.

“Lenny?”

“Mick?”

“How the hell did you become an artist?” the guy, no wait, Len says.

Mick laughs “turns out I can paint. And apparently setting your own paintings on fire is art not arson. I guess the straight and narrow didn’t end up agreeing with you?”

It’s Len’s turn to laugh. “I can’t say that ‘straight’ has even been something that agreed with me.” he leans casually against the counter.

And yeah that’s definitely a lear. Mick is being hit on by the kid he hung out with in juvie a lifetime ago.

Fuck?

“So you want tea? Coffee? I think I might have soda but I finished the beer.”

Len give him a weird look. “Coffee thanks. Black three sugars.”

Mick nods and goes for the coffee. Len sits down on one of the few remaining chairs at the counter. It’s missing two legs but since it started out with six it should be fine.

“So what’s the real story behind Mick “heatwave” Rory reclusive artist?”

Mick fits the pot under the coffee machine and turns around. “When I got outta juvie I had court ordered therapy right? Well one of the shrinks tried to get me to express myself through art. Did you know art therapy is a thing? Anyway at first I tried to fuck with her so I set all my paintings on fire but apparently that’s a valid form of expression so things kinda went from there.”

He shrugs. It’s the abridged version but that’s pretty much how it went.

Len huffs a laugh and looks around at Mick’s paintings. It’s difficult to look anywhere in the room without seeing some kind of Mick’s art.

The stuff he gives to his agent to sell get’s nicely put up somewhere and taken care of but that’s only about 20% of what Mick makes.

He discovered after he started paining that creating can be just as compulsive as destruction.

There are paintings, sculptures, drawings, and a bunch of other shit mick isn’t even sure there’s a name for scattered around every available surface. And a few that aren’t.

Mick has made, destroyed, remade, or “improved” pretty much every item of furniture in the place at least once.

Mick really needs to clean more.

Len takes it all in with those sharp eyes. Eventually he stops and looks hard at the painting Mick assumes he came to steel since it was the one Mick was sleeping under.

He walks over to it and stands in front with his arms crossed. Not touching like allot of people do, just looking.

It’s probably Mick’s favorite thing he’s ever painted. He painted most of it from memory and security camera footage.

He had got to watch the battle first hand right on his very own street. Central city’s own superhero vs. supervillain showdown. The ridiculously named Captain Cold, and the maybe worse named Flash.

To Mick it had almost looked like they were dancing, Surrounded by lightning and ice.

That feeling came through in the painting. They’re caught close, ice and lighting, intense. It might even look a little homo erotic if it wasn’t so playful.

The background of the painting is Mick’s own apartment building. He couldn’t resist the vanity of painting in himself as a dark figure lurking in one of the windows. It’s a ridiculous touch. He isn’t usually one for ego in his work but something about it felt right. Like he should be there.

Mick drags his mind away from the painting and looks at Len. He’s got his shoulders back arms folded in front of him. The pose is impressive. Mick wants to sketch him. Though maybe without the heavy parka obscuring the line of his back…

The coffee machine goes off and Mick reaches to pour it into two cups.

“Oh fuck.” Mick says and promptly pours coffee all over the counter.

Len looks over and raises an eyebrow as mick tries to contain the mess.

He gives up after a few seconds and just throws a dish towel over the mess. His place has seen way worse.

He walks over to stand next to Len by the painting. He blames the late hour and the shock for not seeing it earlier.

Mick looks back and forth between Len and the painting but it’s not necessary. He knows who he’s looking at. It’s there in the way he stands and the way he holds his shoulders.

“Robber of ATMs to super villain. Who says there’s no upward mobility in crime?”

Len huffs a laugh and they’re standing so close Mick can feel it.

“I guess you could say I heard a calling. What’s a hero after all without a villain?”

Mick has to smile at that. “A pretty boring painting is what.”

Len looks back at the painting again and points carefully to where Mick is lurking in the window.

“You were there?”

Mick nods. “Had a front row view of the whole thing. Probably the coolest thing I've ever seen.”

He and Len just grin at each other for a second because shit, he remembers all those years ago, reading comics pressed close together. They got traded like currency and fuck knows Mick and Len never had much to trade so it was a rare occurrence. Only when somebody made the mistake of betting anything against Len.

They had spent hours debating superpowers. Len always did want to be a supervillain. Mick didn’t much care as long as he got a cool power.

Looks like Len got his wish. Mick is less surprised than he should be.

Mick shakes his head and says “I’m not even going to ask how you got an ice gun cause i’m pretty sure you’d actually tell me.”

Len just shrugs. “It's a cold gun, not an ice gun, and the people at star labs really need to do something about their security.”

Mick doesn’t know what a sketchy defunct science lab has got to do with it but it seems like the kind of thing he probably shouldn't fuck with so he leaves it. 

Len reaches out to trace the air in front of painting, never quite touching.

“Why’s you paint us like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like we’re… dancing. I was trying to kill him but here… it almost looks like we’re dancing.”

Mick rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. It hadn’t been on purpose really. It was just want was right for this. The event itself had been so full of energy and tension. Hot day, freezing blasts, and lightning in the air. Mick jerked off twice that night and painting until dawn.

“Can’t have been trying to kill him that bad, if he’s still alive.”

The look Len shoots him is surprised for just a second before it goes back to impasive. Must not have expected anyone to catch on to that. Captain Cold always plays it cool.

“The second I heard about this painting I knew I had to steal it. Wasn’t even sure if I was going to sell it, keep it, or destroy it.” Len says.

“Well you’re sure as shit not going to be destroying it, I worked too fucking hard for that.”

Len smiles slyly at him.

“No I couldn’t possibly do that now. But, if you’re amenable, I might have an idea.”

Mick gets a feeling he hasn’t had in nearly 30 years. That same feeling he got that time a dumbass kid in juvie talked him into setting Joey Santini’s towel on fire while he was in the shower.

Mick loves this feeling.

***

Barry nearly walks past it the first time. He does an actual double take and has to walk backwards, positive he’s hallucinating.

He’s not. There is in fact a large painting of The Flash and Captain Cold battling it out artistically taking up a good chunk of the wall across from his lab.

“Nice right?” Captain Signh says from directly behind Barry.

Barry doesn’t drop his coffee that might be the super powers.

“Uh, yeah?”

“It was donated by a famous artist on the condition that it hang right here. Feng Shui or something I guess. Just as well it doesn’t give the right impression to the public having a giant picture of the local vigilante just hanging around in plain sight.”

Signh nods to himself and walks off muttering “Damn good painting though…”

This feels like the kind of weird thing he should be worrying about.

Barry tilts his head at the painting. Are they… dancing?

Barry needs to find this artist.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this could go further but I haven't got the time/energy to do it justice right now so if anyone else wants to take a crack at it just lemme know. 
> 
> Title from Unbound by Avenged Sevenfold


End file.
